The Art of Deal Making
by Marquesa de Santos
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin buys a young noblewoman from the ogre slave-traders, but does not seem to want her for traditional use.
1. Chapter 1

They led her on a chain to her new master; she hadn't been so terrified since they'd taken her from her home. The ogre jerked her forward, causing her to stumble over the cobblestones. Belle was exhausted. She just wanted to sleep. She walked into the ogre's back, not realizing they'd stopped.

"Is this the princess?"

The monster before her chuckled "yes, and still pure; we haven't touched her. She's all yours, Dark One." She was pulled again, the collar at her throat chafing her. No. She'd heard that name before, the name upon which her father had called before her home was destroyed. Holding back tears, she shivered. No. No.

"Good." The leash exchanged hands, and she mutely followed.

II

She didn't know what to do. Rapunzel had told her that if she were compliant and confident and did as she was expected, she would be safe, safe being a relative term.

He had removed her chains earlier, the cloak around her body hiding the little clothing she wore underneath. Since then, he had ignored her, save to feed her. The food had been a balm for she hadn't eaten well in months; the ogres tried to feed them human flesh, and most of the girls had refused. Warm soup eased her chills and gave her strength. She let the cloak slip from her body and cleared her throat.

"Sir." Her heart was beating too quickly, as he turned. His eyes widened at the sight of creamy skin barely covered by gold underthings. She was struck with how large his eyes were. Reptilian, in image and intensity. He could eat her alive with such eyes, and she felt her resolve weaken. A giggle fluttered from him, and he waved his hand over her.

"No need for that, dearie." She was clean, suddenly, the dirt of the road gone and a modest nightgown replacing her nakedness.

Rejection and relief battled within her. "What is your purpose with me?" Her voice wavered.

"Sleep. You'll know soon enough." He bowed; his hands motioning toward the bed as his eyes glinted. She stepped toward the bed, shivering, and slipped under the covers. Sleep claimed her quickly, and there were no dreams to plague her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Warm fingers of light tickled the tired skin of her eyes. She curled away from the sun and burrowed into the soft sheets. For a moment, she couldn't place herself, but the fogginess fell away and she sat up. No, he hadn't come to her in the night as she had been told some masters were wont. Her heart drummed against her ribs, pounding in her ears as she clutched crumpled sheets. She'd overslept.

Stumbling from the bed, she found an ebony colored gown with the hem covered in golden runes, laid over a velvet pink settee. Her breath caught at the sight. It was so lovely. She had never considered herself one for frivolities, but she had missed the comfort of her life before captivity. Though the dress did seem a bit too short, curiosity seized her and she stepped towards it. She pulled the nightgown off over her head and donned the dress. Her skin was not as smooth and her memory not very clear, but she thought it might be silk from the way it whispered on her skin. The gown's hem hit her mid-calf, fitting tightly over her torso, flaring out at her waist. It exposed only her collarbone. At least there was that. The skirt hung heavy and the gold detail caught the light prettily, swishing luxuriantly as she walked on tip-toes over the plush rug. She felt truly clothed for the first time in months, and though it didn't cover her legs as much as she liked, it was more than she had been expecting. Even her arms were mostly covered, only half of her forearms exposed. And the soft black boots that she'd just spied would surely cover what the dress would not. All blessings in this cold autumn. She twirled as though she were in her father's castle again, the mauves and reds and browns fading into an endless blur before her throat caught and she stilled. It was too kind. All this. She took a shuddering breath and made herself sit.

Her thoughts shattered, and for the first time in months, she allowed tears to fall. There was no place for tears among the ogres; she had learned that soon enough. Those who were caught crying were stripped and left in the forest. Belle had never wanted to know what became of those women. She'd had a choice, and she had chosen survival. Now, though, now the tears wouldn't stop. She would never be innocent again. She would never be free. There would be no one to watch her twirl and dance and no one to comfort her when one of the beloved characters in her books died. Papa would have smiled and clapped and called her his dear girl. He'd delighted in her displays, and though his patronizing had frustrated her to no end, she found she missed it. She missed him. She'd take his patronization gladly if it meant he would be here with her.

"Now, dearie, we can't have that." The Dark One stood outside the previously closed door. There hadn't even been a creak to warn her. She stopped mid-sob, struggling to keep her sniffling under control. She wouldn't apologize for her tears. They were hers, and she wouldn't apologize for them. Taking two deep breaths she managed to school her features into a mask that would betray nothing. It would be prudent to guard herself. Just because he'd not yet stolen into her bed didn't mean he wouldn't. She had not been able to gauge his purpose with her, and she'd have been a fool to trust him for the comfort of a bed and the courtesy of not yet violating her.

She faced him. The dark figure from the night before seemed both more and less menacing; too childlike to be a threat, but the age in his eyes spoke a different truth. She pursed her lips. This was not a man with whom anyone should trifle. He was aptly named, this Dark One, and the sight of his revolting teeth sent a shiver down her spine. "What," she began before steeling herself against the nausea and fear. "What do you want with me? Why am I here?"

"It's simple, really. Your father and I came to a little arrangement."

She couldn't help the hope that came alivein her chest. "Papa's alive?"

"No."

He said it so lightly, so lightly that it shouldn't have hurt as it did. Yet, she felt her heart break anew. She had suspected Papa had not survived, but there'd always been a part of her that had believed he had. Papa was older, but not so much older than some of the knights. And he was strong, or he had been. The sob that had been resting at the back of her throat tore free. The gods be damned, could she not remain tearless for a moment? She wiped her eyes, ignoring the Dark One's heavy stare.

Belle collected herself. She had to be strong and do the name LeFay honor. Bravery could only follow once she did the brave thing.

"What arrangement?" Her voice was hoarse in the asking, tired and drawn.

"Well, dearie," his voice was less mocking than before, though the kindness she heard could have been a flight of fancy. "He asked that I save you. He hadn't much at the time."

Frozen fingers wrapped around her heart and her breathing all but stopped. No, he mustn't have had anything. Nothing but his life. "What was his price? Had he any gold left to his name?" Her voice was quiet, though the desire to cry was mostly gone. It had been replaced by numbness. Yes, she was very numb. Exhausted despite the hours of sleep she'd had preceding the sun's intrusion.

The Dark One's snort brought her up cold. "Even if he had, dearie, what is gold to one who spins it from straw? No. I asked for you. I've been needing an apprentice, at any rate. Someone to help me run my errands, learn my trade."

Belle's head spun. Apprentice? She was a woman grown. She had wanted to be an apprentice, once, to the shepherd at the edge of the meadow. Papa had been furious. She was a lady, neither male nor common. Even if she had been born a son, she would never have been apprenticed to a shepherd. Such work was not for the likes of her, and he hadn't wanted her anywhere near Aralek. The names he'd called him had frightened her. She had only been seven; she couldn't have known shepherd's work was considered to be base. And what could this creature teach her? The answer came unbidden to her, neither thrilling nor shocking nor terrifying. She felt as though she were floating, high above fear or joy.

Her father approving of this seemed almost ironic, but then he'd been dying, and he had been trying to save her. "What am I to learn?" She'd have been excited even a mere eight months ago. Now, hardened by war and captivity, she didn't know how to feel. Excited wasn't quite the word for the nervous flutter in her stomach.

He smiled, great and terrible. The decay in his mouth made her recoil and the eerie glee in his smile made her want to crawl under the covers. "How do you feel about learning magic, dearie?"


End file.
